


Treasure

by Oliver__Niko



Series: Kinky Sylvix Shenanigans [6]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Birthday, Birthday Sex, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Bottom Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Dom/sub, M/M, Married Couple, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Roleplay, S&M, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sexual Roleplay, Spanking, Top Sylvain Jose Gautier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:07:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24555904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oliver__Niko/pseuds/Oliver__Niko
Summary: Sylvain's birthday has been wonderful. Spending time with his family, receiving thoughtful gifts and enjoying the simple things in life. Night falling, however, doesn't mean it's over; in fact, it brings what may be the best gift so far.After all, even he is taken by surprise to find his husband wearing a maid's dress for him.
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Series: Kinky Sylvix Shenanigans [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1709566
Comments: 12
Kudos: 82





	Treasure

**Author's Note:**

> 9.4k words of a smut fic for Sylvain's birthday, you ask? I answer yes, what else would I gift both you and him.
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this; married Sylvain and Felix just really gets to me, as well as, you know. Felix getting annihilated. Only the best for Sylvain's birthday.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Sylvain has never cared much for his birthday. He’s used it, of course. During those lonely years of seducing women, his birthday was a great tool for flirting, as well as show his wealth through the gifts he couldn’t have cared less for.

He has always loved the times around it. The day itself, however … How is the day of his birth any more special than other days? That’s all it is; the fifth day of the Garland Moon. Nothing more, nothing less.

Or at least, that is what he once believed. Nowadays, there _is_ something to adore in his birthday. He once never realised how love changes everything. How having a husband who wants to spoil him, children who find it positively exciting that their daddy’s birthday is today … It reminds him that his existence is appreciated, wanted, and there’s happiness to be found in that day.

Today, he is thirty-two. Those who have ever said life becomes worse as you age must not experience the same joy he has. Every year, his birthday only grows all the more special, even when he hasn’t done anything in particular. Enjoying board games with his family. Testing the new riding gear gifted to him by Felix, who looked on with a fond smile, startled when Sylvain pulled him up onto the black stallion as well. Eating a meal out in the garden. An offer to visit a museum, but Sylvain declining; simple is best at times.

It’s been a wonderful day. Passing too quickly, perhaps, but he knows the memories will stay with him. Evening has now arrived. His and Felix’s two beloved children are asleep. Members of staff in their home have returned to their quarters. Sylvain has not even seen a single maid cleaning the halls, left wondering if Felix has asked them to leave early.

The prospect is exciting. Sylvain knows nothing could please him more than ending this day in his husband’s arms, inside him, hearing those gasped words telling Sylvain that Felix loves him. It’s simply a little confusing when Sylvain finds himself sat on a chair in their kitchen, Felix asking him to wait.

If it was earlier, he’d suspect Felix is arranging a prank with their son or daughter. Felix can be surprisingly childish in this sense at times. But it’s much too late. Felix would never let either get away with roaming the halls once the twenty-second hour has passed. So why has he …?

His inner thoughts halt when he hears the door of the kitchen opening. Sylvain looks across the room, mouth open ready to greet his husband.

It stays open, no words leaving him, when his sight lands on Felix.

Beneath dim torchlight, Felix is radiant enough as it is. Nothing, however, could have prepared Sylvain for his attire; the maid dress complete with a white frilled apron and adorable collar. A matching headdress sits atop loose navy hair. And his legs— _Goddess,_ those stunning legs, walking towards Sylvain with the same grace as a dancer, are covered in garter stockings, leading down to a surprisingly innocent pair of baby-doll shoes.

“Well? Are you just going to sit there looking gormless?” says Felix, hands brushing over Sylvain’s shoulders. “I didn’t spend so long getting our children in bed for you to say nothing.”

“Goddess, you—Felix, baby, you are _divine.”_ Sylvain strokes over Felix’s thighs, reaching beneath the skirt. “Happy birthday to me, indeed.”

A gentle chuckle. “Nice final gift, then?”

“I’m in absolute awe.” Sylvain squeezes at Felix’s ass, the lace of lingerie soft beneath his fingertips. “No wonder you got everyone sent to bed.”

“There is _no_ way I am letting anyone but you see me in this.” He’s now sliding himself onto Sylvain’s lap. Slowly, rubbing himself up Sylvain’s thighs, the slightest smirk that sends Sylvain’s head reeling.

“And what a pleasure it is, darling. Always so lucky to have you.” Sylvain’s hands explore upwards, tracing over Felix’s waist. “Oh,” he says as they find Felix’s upper back, “open back, too. You sure know what I like.”

“Wouldn’t be a good birthday gift if I didn’t.”

Felix strokes up Sylvain’s chest. Popping open a few buttons, palm warm against him. He leans in, bringing their lips together, pressing that little closer.

Sylvain hums appreciatively in response. Neither ever grow tired of the feel of each other’s lips. They know each other like the back of their hand, although still have every single kiss thrill them, be it the softest imaginable or rough and heated. Sylvain is slow as his tongue joins with Felix’s. Hands still roaming around his body, appreciating it, touching the little details of the maid dress.

And sliding beneath it, of course. Sylvain can never resist the feel of Felix’s backside when blessed with lingerie.

He breaks the kiss, squeezing at Felix’s thighs. “So, beautiful. Does dressing up like this means you’re going to service me?”

Felix hums. Fingers lightly dancing across Sylvain’s chest, lips pressing a kiss beneath Sylvain’s ear. “That depends on how you want me, master.”

 _Master._ The word resonates in Sylvain, taking him away to a blissful paradise. Felix has leaned back again, waiting, eyes playful; he knows he has ignited something in Sylvain with a mere sentence.

“It’d be a shame to have you dressed up all nicely to serve me, only to not be on your knees in our kitchen,” says Sylvain, reaching for Felix’s chin to lift it. A thumb over Felix’s bottom lip; heat reaches between his legs when an obedient tongue laps over it. “Oh, baby. You’re being so good.”

Felix accepts the thumb slipping into his mouth, what must be a quiet moan released against it. His hips have bucked forward to push his crotch against Sylvain’s. “It’s your birthday, after all,” he says when the thumb leaves his mouth.

“Still, still … And I’m sure you’re going to be enjoying this as much as me.”

“Already am,” Felix admits, lips finding Sylvain’s again to prevent any response.

The two are steady in continuing. They simply appreciate each other’s lips. Exploring hands, Felix’s gentle rotation of his hips against Sylvain. Working against him, building up their budding erections, despite how the word _master_ has been returning to Sylvain’s mind and is continuing to be a source of arousal.

Felix hums and rises his neck when Sylvain’s lips find it. “What were you saying, about wanting me on my knees?”

“Eager, aren’t you?”

Though Felix rolls his eyes, there’s lust in them, fingers tucking strands behind his ear as he says, “Anything to please you today.”

“Then get to it, baby.”

Felix’s lips brush against Sylvain’s cheek. His thighs are spread open, Felix sinking down to the floor between them. Slow, graceful. Sylvain has no idea how Felix manages to always be so _gorgeous._ Those eyes blinking up at Sylvain expectedly, hands trailing over his thighs.

It’s enough for Sylvain’s breath to be taken away. Felix on his knees for him has always been a captivating sight, so _unexpected_ the first time Felix did so obediently, open enough to present his layers to Sylvain. But nothing has ever compared to this. Felix, here, in their shared kitchen, the skirt of his dress sprawled across his thighs and onto the tiles beneath him, utterly ready and willing to serve.

“The floor is cold,” says Felix, hands gliding up Sylvain’s thighs. “Hope you appreciate me for this.”

“Felix, love, I _always_ appreciate you. Besides, it’s not as though you’re not used to it. Floor of the cathedral, or our kitchen—which is colder?”

Felix lets out a sigh, but there’s amusement on his face. “Cathedral. Huge, open space, you know.”

“I do know, and I remember _so_ very fondly.”

He runs a hand through Felix’s hair whilst the belt of his trousers is unfastened. Felix’s eyes meet his as they’re pulled down alongside his underwear. “Already pretty hard there, Syl.”

“Syl? What happened to master?”

Felix grumbles. “Not letting that go, are you?”

“Come on. You’re telling me you said that, put on this dress, and you’re _not_ meaning to engage in a little roleplay? I can read you like a book, Fe.”

Every little word, action, intention behind them; how there’s the slightest squirm of Felix’s legs beneath the dress, an indication of his arousal. He presses a kiss to the side of Sylvain’s dick, a murmur of, “And I can with you, _master.”_

“Goddess,” Sylvain says, a quiet moan as Felix’s tongue runs up his length. “I’ll never grow tired of hearing you say that.”

A smile. Felix pressing his lips to the head, sucking lightly; a hand on the back of his head encourages him to take Sylvain into his mouth properly. A soft grunt from Sylvain. Relaxing back in the chair, running his hand through Felix’s hair. He’s speechless, for a moment, realising how great of a treasure he’s been given. How loving his husband is.

Those scarred yet beautiful hands take hold of the base of Sylvain’s erection. Eyes dropped down as Felix works a steady pace, flickering back up as he licks at the head.

“Oh, baby,” says Sylvain, almost breathless. “Keep going.”

Felix is happy to oblige. Always is, but now more than ever. Shuffling that little closer with his eyes shut once more. A vibration against Sylvain’s erection, the latter knowing it’s from a moan; Felix enjoys it as much as him. Mutual contentment, trust. Sylvain smiling as he gently takes hold of Felix’s hair.

“So good for your master, aren’t you?” he says. Expects a scowl, but instead receives a moan, one shooting pleasure through Sylvain’s erection and causing him to lift his head back with his own. Eyes on the ceiling, reminding him of where they are.

Their surroundings is only another reason for both to be turned on. Their habit of seeking intimacy wherever they are in the monastery has never left them, but with children come less risks they can take. There’s always a wait for them to be asleep. A certain appeal lies in how during their slumber, anyone else is able to wander in, watch as the honoured Duke pleasures his husband, playing the game of a servant pleasing his master.

“Anyone could walk in on you doing this,” says Sylvain, increasing his force on Felix’s hair just a little, ensuring to keep his head in place. Their eyes meet again. “And I know you love that.”

In reality, none are likely to do so, but the sheer thrill of possibility is enough. Felix works his mouth that little faster, running his hands over Sylvain’s thighs. A delicious blush is spread across his face.

One hand is inching up his own leg, halted by Sylvain tugging at his hair. “Now, now.” Sylvain’s voice is gentle, despite the handful of hair in his grasp. “I’m the birthday boy, aren’t I? Meaning only I get to touch you. And I _really_ don’t want to have to punish you on such a special day.”

Felix’s eyes are half-lidded, but express more than enough. A challenge. Sylvain cannot help but smirk, images flicking through his mind on how much he can take advantage of Felix’s obedience and desire, filled with bursting love and affection for all the boundaries Felix breaks down for him.

They continue, Felix determined to fulfil Sylvain’s wishes as much as he is able. A pace that only quickens. Hands obediently steering clear of himself, despite how Sylvain knows Felix is dying to be touched. Maybe, if he continues to be good, Sylvain will give him what he wants.

His climax soon arrives with a groan of his husband’s name. Straight into that beautiful mouth. Felix’s face tightens, loosening again as he straightens up slowly. A tongue runs around his lips. Fingers pushing strands of hair behind his ear as he swallows, smiles.

“How was that?” he says. Sylvain takes his hand, bending his back over to press a kiss to it.

“You always do perfectly.”

“Feel free to fuck me over a kitchen counter in return.” Then, as an afterthought, and with an obvious taunting tone in his voice, “Oh, sorry. _Master.”_

Sylvain feigns a sigh. “Love how you’re the one who said that first and now you’re using it to be bratty.”

“It’s your birthday.” Felix crosses his arms over on Sylvain’s lap, resting his chin on them. “Just giving you reason to do whatever you like. Put me under your control however you deem best.”

“I can do that anyway. But yes, putting you in your place when you have an attitude on you is always satisfying.” Sylvain strokes a hand down Felix’s cheek. “Up you get, Fe. And … no, I’m not fucking you yet. I’m savouring all of this.”

Even Felix returning to his feet is impossibly graceful. “In that case, if you wait a moment,” he says, “I do have something prepared for you.”

“That’s even better than all _this?”_

“Not better, no. But I think you’ll like it.”

Sylvain watches him with curious anticipation as he walks away. Smoothing out his skirt, brushing through his hair, hiding the signs of him being on his knees on the kitchen floor just a minute prior. He soon opens a container, operated by ice magic to keep it cool; his hip shuts it, and he’s returning with two bowls in either hand. One has strawberries, the other cream.

“That’s … not what I had in mind.”

“So you’re telling me that you’re against me doing this,” Felix slides back onto Sylvain’s lap; the latter’s underwear and trousers are now back in place, but they might as well not be from how electrifying it is when Felix pushes himself close, bulge inside his lingerie pressing against Sylvain.

His fingers take the stalk of a strawberry, dipping it in cream. Sylvain’s eyes are wide as Felix _so_ beautifully sucks the cream from it.

Goddess. “Not too sweet for you?”

“No. Lysithea taught me the perk of sweetness that is actually good quality.” Felix brings the strawberry to Sylvain’s mouth; the latter bites into it, and the most exquisite tanginess he has ever experienced explodes on his tongue.

“They’re from Brigid!” he says after swallowing. “Oh, man, their strawberries are the best … Wait, is this another birthday gift?”

“There’s a whole carton of them,” Felix confirms. Sylvain’s face breaks out into a smile, and there’s a prickliness in his eyes, almost as though he might become tearful.

It might seem like a silly reaction to mere strawberries. There’s simply so much love behind them. The amount of love Felix puts into every gift means more than Sylvain can say, other than how his hands tread over Felix’s face, pressing a kiss to his lips.

They’ve always had a lot of money in their hands. Expensive gifts, lavish splurges—none of it is all that special to them. What matters is how deeply the two understand each other to give something that _truly_ matters.

It may simply be strawberries, but they’re the specific kind Sylvain loves, only grown by a certain farmer within Brigid’s countryside. Always ran rampant with orders. Felix must have had to contact them in advance to have received this in time.

“You’re an absolute treasure, my love,” says Sylvain. “Thank you.”

Felix smiles, made somewhat awkward by such high praise. “Only the best for you.”

He places either bowl down on a kitchen counter nearby. It allows Felix to rest one hand on Sylvain, thumb circling lightly over his shoulder, as the other takes another berry and dips it into the pure, white cream. He doesn’t lick said cream off this time. And the subtle sweetness among that far stronger in the strawberry—it’s _bliss,_ and for a moment, Sylvain has even forgotten that his husband is in such intoxicating attire and was sucking him off not long before.

“Oh, wow.”

“Better than sex?”

“No, not quite, but _close.”_

Felix chuckles. “Save one for me?”

“Have one now, beautiful.”

Those fingers take hold of a strawberry, covering it in cream before he bites into it. A hum that causes Sylvain to smile widely.

“Right?”

“Oh, yeah, these are good.” Felix finishes the strawberry, popping the stalk with the rest. “I didn’t try any of this batch.”

“You were saving them all for me?” Sylvain asks, positively melting.

“No need for the puppy eyes,” says Felix, but he’s smiling back. Sylvain cannot resist bringing another loving kiss to Felix’s lips.

Soon, Felix is preparing another strawberry for Sylvain. This is when the latter becomes aware again of the absolute prize he has settled on his lap. As his teeth sink down into the sweet fruit, his hands wander back over Felix again. Fingertips stroking over the lining of lingerie taut against hips. Down to his ass, giving it a squeeze. The berry in front of Sylvain quivers.

“Not too distracting, surely?”

“A little. You’ve still left me hard, you know.”

“ _I_ left you hard? All you did was suck me off. Although I know that’s enough for you.”

“Shut up.” Felix adds, slightly quieter, “At least make this a challenge, master.”

Oh, that word. It gets to Sylvain every time. A grin is on his face, accepting another strawberry whilst he squeezes at Felix’s rear again; this time, both large hands cup each cheek completely. Felix’s hips push back against them. Lust, a hint of desperation through the now gentle rocks of those hips. Felix’s eyes, which have been so determined to stay on Sylvain’s, drop with a hitch of his breath when Sylvain’s hand treads back to the front, gliding over his groin.

“Goddess,” Felix breathes as that hand treads down, palming lightly through his underwear. His trembling hand is preparing cream on another strawberry.

“Really wanting to be good, aren’t you?”

“You tell me, master.” Felix’s teeth bite down to silence himself when Sylvain’s hand begins to rub him through his underwear. He continues to grind, Sylvain choosing to not assist aside from these small motions. The increasing desperation on Felix’s face is simply too tempting to ignore.

Slow, teasing, up until he suddenly squeezes. This is when Felix’s body jolts with a whimper escaping through the bite on his lip. Strawberry slipping from his fingertips, its cream spread on Sylvain’s shirt.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry. I know you like this shirt.”

Sylvain has never cared less for this in his life. He leans closer to Felix, pressing a kiss to his neck before murmuring into his ear, “You know, adding that to your previous attitude is really warranting you to be punished.”

The words drag Felix straight back into their game. He presses himself closer to Sylvain, gliding his rear across the other’s thighs. “So do it,” he says. “Could spank me right here and now, _master.”_

“Oh, right here, you say?” Sylvain pinches at an ass cheek. “Right in our kitchen?”

He says it calmly, a husk in his voice, but there’s a part of him inside that is practically screaming at the prospect. Managing to be sexual away from their bed chambers is thrilling in itself; the opportunity to engage in impact play without being heard is even better.

“I told the staff to head to bed. The only people on duty right now are guards away from here.”

“And you did this on purpose, knowing what this might lead to,” Sylvain says, barely above a murmur. “Oh, Felix, you are wonderful.”

“Going to shut up any time soon and just—” He yelps at a sudden, swift slap against his ass; barely enough to cause pain, not yet, but enough to shock him into silence. A hand has reached his mouth. All attitude aside, Sylvain can see his front is already breaking down.

“Come now, baby. Don’t give me any reason to make this harder on you.”

“I’m the one who asked for it,” says Felix, “so make it as hard as you like, _master.”_

“Goddess.” A hint of a growl is in Sylvain’s voice. “You truly are too good for me, you know.”

His hands hold Felix by his waist, using it to lift him whilst Sylvain gets to his feet. He hums in thought, keeping Felix in his rightful place by Sylvain with hands cupping his ass, debating what would be the most delicious option for where they are.

He realises he didn’t have to question this for a moment. He turns Felix around, driving him down towards the kitchen counters with a hand in his hair. There’s an undeniable moan from the force. Arms resting against the worktop, eyes peering back at Sylvain.

“Should have known.”

Sylvain simply smiles, his spare hand wandering over Felix’s ass; the skirt only barely manages to cover it, folded over his hips at this angle. “How could I resist? I was right in how hot you’d look, baby. Never imagined there’d be a day where I could have you dressed up so nicely like this, bent over a counter with your ass up … Well, I _have_ imagined it, but never thought it’d actually happen.”

“Not easy getting everyone out of the way,” says Felix. “But anything for you … master.”

Sylvain’s teeth catch his bottom lip, grin growing. “And that, my love, is only one of the reasons why I adore you as much as I do.”

His hand reaches for the hem of the skirt. He lifts it slowly, carefully, as though tending to a masterpiece—in way, he is. Sylvain realises once it’s folded over Felix’s hips that this is the first time he has been able to properly see and appreciate the lingerie. It’s new, that is for certain, even if not unlike other lingerie Felix has worn for him. Beautiful black lace a stark contrast to his pale skin. Pale for now, at least, before Sylvain’s dependable hands gift them with redness.

He appreciates them for now. Removing the hand on Felix’s head to instead run both over his ass cheeks, thumbs playing with the edge of lace over the skin. Absolutely gorgeous. They come together in the centre of the crevice, framing each cheek, and Sylvain cannot help but to marvel at them.

 _Especially_ not with his husband bent over in his manner. Blushing, waiting expectedly, soft sighs escaping him for the temporarily gentle hands. The folded skirt, garter stockings tight against his legs … Sylvain cannot get enough.

His hands squeeze at both ass cheeks. Rise, colliding with only a minor slap. “You suggested this first, so why not ask again?”

Felix nearly seems to groan in exasperation, but he holds it back. “You know I …” A swallow, and the same sense of awkward shyness evident when they were younger; Sylvain adores the times it returns, even now years into their marriage. “Punish me.”

“Punish me, what?”

“Punish me, master.”

“That’s better.” Sylvain slaps again. Slightly harder, but still nowhere near full force; Felix’s lips purse in response, the slightest tremble beneath Sylvain’s hands. “And how do you want me to punish you?”

He’d say he’s pushing it, but it’s his birthday. He’s allowed. And judging by how Felix subtly squirms, arching his back that little more, he’s relishing in it as well through his embarrassment.

“… Spank me, master. Please.”

“Oh, I even got a please.” Sylvain’s thumbs trace circles over either cheek. “Such a good boy, but not enough for me to change my mind.”

Felix shakes his head; a silent agreement on him to do anything but this. Sylvain squeezes again. Hand risen, eye contact. Building the anticipation evident in nervous, but aroused eyes.

“ _Ah—”_ is the cry when that hand collides with him properly. Not to the full strength Sylvain plans to use. Enough, however, to invoke such a reaction; it heads straight between Sylvain’s legs, as it always does.

“Oh, this is even better than I imagined.” _Slap,_ a quieter cry. “Here, of all places … What if someone were to overhear this, Fe?”

Those words cause the third slap to bring out a moan. “ _Fuck,_ Sylvain— _ngh!”_

A little more force. “You know better than that by now, surely?” And another. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have practically begged for me to do this.”

“… Sorry, master.” Barely above a whisper, but more than enough. Sylvain smiles as his hand strokes over an ass cheek. Another spank. This time, a whimper from Felix, and his thighs unmistakeably rubbing together from arousal.

“That’s better. Got to make sure you keep that up, don’t we?”

“Yes, master, I— _fuck.”_

He moans again from further impact. That is always even more arousing than the tingling on Sylvain’s palm as he does this. Knowing his partner enjoys it as well, relishes being forced into submission—and, above all, willing to be as such in order for Sylvain to have as much enjoyment out of his day as possible.

The spanking continues. Sylvain slows it down. Letting Felix wait almost anxiously for the next one, the sounds he receives the perfect reward. Not to mention the music of his hand’s collision … It all blends together in a harmony that has Sylvain biting his lip, and the desire to, with all the love and adoration as possible behind it, to redden those beautiful ass cheeks.

“Like this, don’t you, baby?” _Slap,_ a choked moan. “Always been quite the little masochist, haven’t you?”

“Yes.” A whisper, almost, embarrassment and arousal painted over Felix’s face in a beautiful flush.

“It’s so funny to me, that no one has ever really known that … It’s almost a shame that there’s little chance of someone finding us, them learning about this side to you.” He tugs the lingerie down to the top of Felix’s thighs to grant extra room. His hand collides with the precision and expertise of one accustomed to such an action; a whimper Sylvain soaks up. “Although keeping you to myself is always nice as well. But what do you think about this, Fe?” Another spank. “Others seeing that the most perfect gift for Margrave Gautier is to have the great Duke beneath him?”

Felix moans, only doing so louder by another collision. “I-it’s … Can’t describe it, it’s …” A softer, quieter moan, and Felix pushing himself back against Sylvain’s hands, when they squeeze and caress the reddened marks they have left behind. “ _Please,_ master, don’t stop.”

“Any harder and we risk getting overheard.” He doesn’t mean it, not really; he doubts a single person is anywhere near them. But it has the desired effect; another moan from his husband, who’s slipping further, deeper, away from brattiness and into submission.

“Let them,” Felix says, his breathlessness bringing it out as little more than a whisper. “Harder, please, _please—”_

The plea heads straight to the returning erection between Sylvain’s legs. He’d be insane to not oblige. “Even if you beg for it,” he says gently, keeping a hand on Felix’s backside as his other strokes lightly over the bulge in his underwear; a near whine, crossed with a whimper, “I’m not going to let you come. So make sure this doesn’t turn you on so much you’re doing that, okay?”

“Yes, master,” is the response. A choked cry when that hand squeezes.

Sylvain continues on, spreading the pain equally across both cheeks, these shocks sparking with pleasure that continues to drive Felix’s head higher into the clouds. Echoing slaps. Alluring whimpering, squirming, only increasing as the hand Sylvain rests on Felix’s hip instead brings both arms together and pins them against Felix’s back.

 _Please, please,_ Sylvain ravenous for every beg.

“Doing so good, baby, taking this so well,” in response.

He hasn’t quite expected Felix’s behaviour. Not to this degree, at least. But there is something about their location, the game they play, that is sending Felix down deeper, deeper; all walls broken and his head reaching a high. Enticed as much as Sylvain with every hit.

A lighter slap ends the punishment. Sylvain keeps Felix’s arms in place whilst leaning back, marvelling at his work, the reddened cheeks and subtle, aroused squirms. Felix’s eyes have long since squeezed shut, the wetness of a tear over a flushed face. Lips open with gentle pants.

“M-master,” he says, and it takes everything Sylvain has to not fuck him here and now. “Please—”

“No qualms against saying that now, have you?” Sylvain squeezes at Felix’s ass, pressing a kiss to his hips before leaning over him. He struggles weakly against the hand pinning his arms. Whining as Sylvain’s bulge presses against his entrance, shivering over the breath against his ear. “I didn’t expect you to end up like this, Fe. Not this much.”

“I don’t … don’t know why, I just—” Felix bites harshly at his lip. The open eye on Sylvain is dreamy, love-filled, bursting with an array of emotion. “Please … I don’t … Please.”

Babbled words. Perhaps incoherent to anyone else. But Sylvain isn’t anyone, and he always understands; his husband slipping into subspace, especially without being restrained for longer than this, might be rare, but that rarity causes it to be all the more precious.

“Come here, my love.” Sylvain releases his forearms. Helps him to his feet instead, turning him around. One hand on his shoulder to keep him steady on those shaking legs. His other reaches for Felix’s face, smiling when the latter leans into the touch, still panting softly. “Are you all right?”

Felix nods. “Little feels better than this,” he murmurs, Sylvain knowing he is referring to the practical drug, the absolute bliss, that is him falling into this headspace. A soft sigh when Sylvain presses a kiss to the side of his head. “Why did you get me up? Thought you’d want …”

“I do, baby, more than anything. But I didn’t expect us to get up to any of this here, and I don’t have anything I need.” Sylvain loops his arms around Felix’s waist, bringing him closer with lips pressing deeply against his neck. “You’re the perfect present, gorgeous, but I didn’t get to unwrap you … I want to get you tied up nice and pretty to compensate.”

Felix moans softly, arms around Sylvain’s neck, pressing himself closer. “Oh, _Goddess—_ please.”

“Always happy that you love it as much as I do.” Another kiss, this time nipping down a little, before Sylvain’s knees bend with an arm beneath Felix’s legs.

He’s easily scooped up into Sylvain’s arms. Often times, he’ll struggle when Sylvain does this, out of annoyance or sheer embarrassment—in this current space he’s in, however, his face merely buries itself in Sylvain’s neck, gripping onto him that little tighter. Sylvain looks down with a fond smile before carrying him out of their beloved kitchen.

* * *

The halls Sylvain walks through and stairs he climbs are luckily void of anyone else. He has no objections against others seeing them in general like this—would find it wonderful to be seen carrying his husband, even, and it’s not something others are unaccustomed to. Felix, however, is currently in a state of vulnerability that Sylvain must not break the trust of. This Felix is for his eyes and his eyes only.

Besides, if Felix were to realise that Sylvain allowed him to be seen whilst wearing a maid dress, he would probably be mad for an entire week. Or day, depending on his neediness, but still too long for Sylvain.

He manages to use the hand under Felix’s legs to fiddle with the door handle to their master bedroom. Pushes it open the rest of the way with his arm and shoulder, popping it closed with his foot.

“Okay there, beautiful?” he says. Felix hums, head lolling against Sylvain.

“Still on a high a bit.”

“Yeah. I thought you would be.”

He carries Felix over to their bed. Sliding between the canopy curtains, he places Felix down onto it. A hand on Sylvain’s wrist stops him from moving away; a gentle tug urges him to smile and lean down, brushing his lips against Felix’s.

“Does it hurt to sit?”

“A little, but nothing too much.” Felix’s head leans to the side, breathing out deeply from the lips against his neck. “Mm … How will you be wanting me? Master.”

So it isn’t over yet, even with their transition between locations. Sylvain’s hands cup Felix’s face as he brushes a kiss on his forehead.

“You’ve been so patient waiting for me, my love, so I won’t be doing anything too complicated.”

“But it’s your birthday.”

“And it’s also been a packed day. No need to overdo it.” Sylvain backs away, kneeling down on the floor so he can remove Felix’s shoes. They’re spotless, never worn away from the indoors, it seems. “What I _do_ have in mind is still lovely, anyway. I simply want to enjoy this with you.”

“If you say so.”

A tender hand travels up Felix’s leg as Sylvain gets back to his feet. Felix’s eyes close as Sylvain leans back in for a kiss. Sylvain soon backs away, heading over to a chest of drawers. The second one down is that he opens; he pulls out a length of soft, white rope.

“Since you’re being an absolute angel today,” says Sylvain as he turns back around. Even during his mellowed out state, Felix is able to smile in amusement.

“Couldn’t have kept up a fight on your birthday forever, _master._ That wouldn’t have been fair on you.”

“Might have been fitting if we had more time,” says Sylvain in agreement. When his knee lands on the bed for him to slide onto it, Felix backs up to give him room. Curiosity reaches his face when Sylvain guides his hands in front of him.

“There instead?” he asks.

“You’ll see why, baby.” Sylvain loops the rope around both wrists, preparing for a simple two column tie. It’s been second nature to him for some time now, and he’s able to have his eyes flicker up at Felix. “I haven’t properly commented on how cute this dress is. The head accessory completes it, truly.”

“Kind of did think about some skimpy excuse _for_ a dress,” says Felix. “But I thought you’d appreciate this.”

“It was such a wonderful pick. I’m still not over it.”

Felix smiles, those dreamlike eyes watching Sylvain bringing the rope through the bight between his wrists. They stay silent during the process. The silence reminds them of this rare time it can simply be the two of them, warmly lit by the candlelight, content in their shared love and trust.

Two fingers slip beneath the rope on Felix’s wrists when his hands are tied. Sylvain double-checks their temperature and current appearance whilst he is there.

“That’s beautiful, my love,” murmurs Sylvain. “White always looks perfect on you.”

The words leave Felix quivering beneath Sylvain’s touch. “Is that all, master?”

“For a moment. Except …” Sylvain gently pushes on Felix’s chest so he falls back on the bed, guiding his bound arms to rest above his head. There’s a soft, delicate moan, Sylvain smiling with his thumb trailing across Felix’s bottom lip. “Hold right there for me.”

Felix is no longer in the right headspace to disobey; he’s still all but for subtle squirms of arousal. Sylvain’s lips brush against his cheek before straightening up. He reaches to the nightstand nearby. Pulling open the top drawer, he retrieves the oil they use for lubrication and a strip of black silk before closing it again.

The oil is temporarily placed to one side. Both hands take hold of the material instead, Sylvain leaning over Felix.

“Head up a little, sweetheart,” he says. Felix does so, watching with anticipation. His breath hitches with a soft yet sharp inhale as it’s tied over his eyes.

“Oh, _Syl.”_

“Fe.” A quiet warning, Sylvain now tying the blindfold behind Felix’s head. “Don’t make me have to return to punishing you.”

“Sorry, master.”

So quick, and so obedient; Sylvain’s smile grows, planting a kiss on Felix’s cheek beneath the blindfold. “Such a good boy.” His hand trails down the side of Felix’s waist. Over the skirt, trailing up over a thigh beneath it; Felix jumps slightly, sense of touch beginning to awaken after his deprivation of sight. “What more could I ask for on my birthday, other than you trusting me enough to do this to you?”

“Always.” Felix’s head leans back further as Sylvain’s hand strokes over his hip. His other reaches beneath the dress on the other side; they pull down the lingerie, Felix’s body’s swaying a little to assist with them, teeth biting at his lip. “Please—”

“You _are_ looking a little desperate there, you know.” Sylvain’s fingertips glide up Felix’s erection. Unable to have seen it coming, Felix lets out a whimper, thighs pressing together. “But you know that I won’t be letting this happen yet, right?”

“How long, master?”

“Up until I fuck you for real, I think. I want to see how long you hold out for me. As a gift for my birthday, you know.”

His thumb teases at the head of Felix’s dick. The latter’s head falls back against the bed with a cry. But he nods, obedient enough to not disagree. Sylvain grins and leans down to bring his lips to Felix’s. The Duke’s body relaxes beneath him.

Sylvain blindly reaches for the bottle of oil. The lid is popped open as Sylvain slips his tongue into Felix’s mouth. A soft, muffled moan in response, one of Felix’s legs rising up and brushing against Sylvain.

Their kiss breaks. Sylvain backs away on the bed, one hand used to spread Felix’s legs apart. The latter lifts them, knees risen, hands remaining above his head. A nervous bite of his lip from the inability to see what is happening.

“Please,” Felix whispers, and it causes such a tremendous shiver coursing through Sylvain, he has to take a moment to simply marvel at the wonderful display of helplessness and vulnerability in front of him.

“Please what, baby?” Sylvain soon says in response, bringing his hand underneath the dress and to Felix’s entrance. A glorious whimper when his lubed fingertip presses down on the exterior muscle.

“Oh, _Goddess.”_ Breathless, already swept away long before Sylvain has finished with him. “Please, master, fuck me.”

“Want it so badly, don’t you?” Sylvain presses a kiss to Felix’s inner thigh. “Ever since you were on your knees, pleasing your master with that beautiful mouth of yours.”

Felix moans, nodding his head. “ _Fuck,_ yes—please, please …”

Sylvain doesn’t expect full, structured sentences, not when he’s still dwelling in this headspace. He gifts Felix’s other thigh with a kiss as well as he carefully slips his index finger instead. The response is immediate, Felix releasing the most beautiful cry. The shocks of pleasure from the gradual building pace arching his back on the bed, sheets tangling in his trapped fingers.

“O-oh, Goddess—”

“Feel good, baby?”

Felix nods. Moaning as Sylvain introduces a deeper pace. “Always does, I— _hng,_ fuck, _master_ —”

The title is even more mesmerising when inside him. Sylvain smiles, leaning down to bring his lips to the other for a brief kiss and bite of his bottom lip. “I love you. I’m going to make you feel wonderful, as a thank you for all you’ve done for me today.”

A smile back. Sylvain can picture the emotion in Felix’s eyes despite the blindfold covering them. “It’s your birthday, I— _ah—_ I don’t need to be thanked, not for spoiling you like … like you deserve.”

“Maybe not, but there’s no necessity to be as thoughtful, as kind, as you’ve been for me. Besides, making you feel good is another birthday gift in itself, so see it as an equivalent exchange.”

Felix chuckles from this, the sound interrupted by a moan as Sylvain increases his pace. “Oh, _master—”_

A practical purr. “Goddess, baby.” The huskiness has deepened in Sylvain’s voice. “You have no idea how much it gets to me, hearing you say that.”

“I reckon I have some idea.”

Sylvain laughs, and Felix does too; it’s only silenced by their lips meeting again as Sylvain slips in a second finger. Working inside him with the expertise of one who has long since been used to this. Earning those beautiful whimpers, purrs, moans, and every sound in between once their kiss breaks again.

Sylvain could happily listen to every one for the rest of his life. And he will do so.

“Let’s not forget about this,” he says gently, trailing the tip of his finger up Felix’s dick. A jolt of Felix’s body. “You’ve been so good since I punished you. Let’s not go back to square one, okay?”

“I don’t know … I-I can’t—”

“You can, and you will, baby.” Sylvain’s voice is still soft as his fingers still thrust into Felix, other hand taking his throat and squeezing on either side. A deep inhale as Felix’s head leans back. “Understand?”

“… Yes, master.”

“That’s it, my kitten.”

Sylvain’s fingers pull out from Felix. The utterly _desperate_ whine from their loss induces a smirk from the former. He reaches for a towel folded on the end of the bed for his fingers. Glancing back at Felix, squirming so beautifully, so _helplessly,_ as he waits for his master’s return.

“I’m not going to be able to do anything too fancy with those,” says Sylvain to himself, glancing up at the tall bedposts of their canopy bed, then the ceiling, “but there’s time for me to do something real quick. I’ll need more rope.”

There’s no denying the increase of Felix’s subtle squirms from those words. The bite of his lip, waiting for more. Sylvain can hardly keep his hands off Felix long enough for him to slide off the bed to return to the chest of drawers. More rope is pulled from inside. He’s soon placing a foot down onto the bed, able to see Felix’s head turn in curiosity when he feels it sink beneath Sylvain’s weight.

“Sylv—I mean, master?”

“Hold right there for a little longer.” Sylvain reaches up, beginning to loop a column tie around a beam from their ceiling. He tugs on it to test. When satisfied, he’s returning to his waiting lover, reaching for the arms resting above his head to guide him back to a seated position.

He’s trembling. Not enough for Sylvain to worry, but for him to know how deeply Felix’s desperation is. A smile, and a kiss given to the side of Felix’s head, before he’s standing back up again with Felix’s bound hands in his grasp.

“Oh, Goddess.”

“That’s right, baby.” Sylvain slides the hanging rope through a bight between Felix’s wrists, keeping them secured above his head. “It’s a favourite of ours; how could I resist?”

He safely secures the ropes in place, testing their tightness. Hands trail down either of Felix’s suspended arms as Sylvain settles back down. Brushing over Felix’s face, relishing in the sight of those flushed cheeks and startling contrast of black silk against them.

This is not what Sylvain admires alone. He backs away. Sliding off the bed, allowing him to walk around it instead. Watching as Felix tugs at his bonds with the uncertainty of being unable to see Sylvain. The shuffling of his legs, so beautiful with those stockings, the skirt spread over them.

His back is arched, exactly how he knows Sylvain likes it, in order to emphasise the curve of his waist and backside. He knows Sylvain is admiring him from every angle. A masterpiece willing to put on a show, knowing that every deep breath, squirm of his body, shoots straight through Sylvain.

“Look at you, baby.” Sylvain slides behind Felix, grasping at his hips and pulling him closer, earning a soft whine. “All helpless and waiting for me, aren’t you?”

Felix nods. Desperate, always _so_ desperate, pushing himself back against Sylvain. “Please, fuck me—”

“I will, but we’re going to play a little game with that. I’m not going to make it too easy for you.”

“What do you …” Felix inhales deeply at the hand that squeezes at an ass cheek. “Oh, _please.”_

“Always going to obey, aren’t you? Always going to do as you’re told in the end.”

Felix nods. “Anything, master.”

Sylvain plants a kiss on the side of Felix’s neck. He shuffles across the bed around him, sitting in front. His hands reach for the belt of his trousers, unfastening it and removing them alongside his underwear. Both are discarded to the side. The oil is taken into his hands instead.

“Now, baby,” says Sylvain. “I want to see how well you manage this.”

He lets out a groan as he slicks the oil over himself. The sight of his lover so desperately bound, the beautiful sounds he makes, has long since made him hard again. He slides himself closer to Felix. Lounging back, an elbow behind him supporting himself whilst his other hand trails over Felix’s thigh. The latter’s pursed lips stifle a moan when Sylvain’s dick slides between his ass cheeks.

“Ride it,” says Sylvain. Felix’s head lifts fully from the blunt command.

“But I—” His lips purse again when Sylvain’s nails dig into his thighs.

“Not as though you haven’t been on my dick enough to do this even when you can’t see it,” says Sylvain, grip loosening, replaced with tracing loving circles over Felix’s skin. “And you want to please your master _so_ badly on his birthday, don’t you?”

Felix nods, teeth catching his lip. “Yes, master.”

“Then do it.”

It takes a deep amount of self restraint, of picturing the delicious sight of his husband bouncing on his erection, for Sylvain to hold himself back as Felix struggles against his suspended arms to settle in place. He still manages to put on his usual performance even now. Gliding his ass up Sylvain’s erection, a beautiful moan as he does so. Swaying his hips at the head.

He’s slow when sinking down, adjusting to the increase of size. A cry muffled by a bitten lip.

“That’s it, gorgeous.” Sylvain cannot prevent a hint of a growl, not when seeing Felix this red-faced, blind against his actions. “You’re perfect.”

The praise urges Felix on to work his way further down Sylvain’s length. A gasped moan. Fingers grasping around the rope above his head to stable himself as he begins to ease himself into a rhythm. Strong thighs gripping onto Sylvain’s own, larger legs. A cry of, “O-oh, _master—!”_ that is more arousing than everything else.

He’s soon adjusting to a faster pace. Panted moans as Sylvain reaches his sweet spot, Sylvain’s own sounds as Felix contracts around him. Hands itching to grasp onto Felix’s hips to pound into him harder, but he’s patient, knowing that he will savour all of this more by taking it step by step. Allowing himself the time to see Felix’s contorted face. Feel his trembles from pleasure and arousal weakening his movements.

The hand Sylvain has free can at least wander. Appreciating the skin of Felix’s thighs, squeezing at an ass cheek. “So helpless against me, aren’t you?”

A louder moan, desperate nod. “ _Y-yes—”_

“Always love you like this, Fe, letting me do what I like to you …” A slap against Felix’s ass, a soft yelp, crossed with a slight sob from his overwhelming pleasure and heightened senses. “And what I love even more is how you enjoy it as much as me.”

“Always … always, master.”

“Go harder. Faster. And remember your little rule.” Sylvain reaches to Felix’s front, a warning finger up his erection. Though the Duke whimpers, he also nods. Willing to take on the challenge for Sylvain no matter how deep the pleasure is running through him.

His grip on the ropes binding him grows tighter as he forces his hips to move faster. Strands of navy hair bounce from his chest. The headdress is skewed on his head. His skirt sprawls around him, thighs gripping Sylvain. That flushed face, panting and moaning, his head lolling against a suspended arm.

The title induced from their roleplay isn’t left unforgotten. Alluring cries of, _“Master, master—”_ as Felix makes himself all the more desperate from the force of his hips.

This pace eventually does slow down, the same moment in which Felix’s moans have become more broken, desperate, from the pleasure coursing through him. Sylvain sits up. He relishes in the drawn-out moan as his hand treads up Felix’s erection.

“O-oh please,” he begs, a couple of overwhelmed tears trickling down those reddened cheeks. “Please, please.”

“Sh. Not yet. I’ll tell you when to beg.”

Felix’s teeth find his lip out of frustration. But he’s good today, willing to submit, and he nods instead of arguing. Sylvain removes his hand away from his dick for now. Instead, he takes hold of Felix’s hips, using them to now start thrusting harder into him.

“ _A-ah!”_ Loud, shameless, exactly what Sylvain wants to hear on his birthday. “Please, master, _please—_ j-just like that.”

“Even if it’s going to be all the harder for you to hold back?” Sylvain asks, catching his own breath from how it simply feels so _wonderful_ to bury himself so deeply, so roughly, into his husband,

Felix nods. Twisting against those bindings above his head. So beautifully helpless, and indulging in every moment of it. “I’ll … I’ll be good, it’s … y-your birthday, after all.”

There’s a hint of amusement in his voice, beneath all the breathlessness and desperation. Sylvain chuckles fondly from those words. A groan escapes him from a particularly strong thrust into Felix.

“Y-you’d be good anyway, don’t lie,” he says. Felix laughs himself, out of breath, and soon replaced with a loud moan.

Sylvain can feel his own orgasm reaching closer. If this is the case for _him,_ Felix, who usually comes faster than his partner, must be unbelievably struggling to hold back. It’s obvious through his sounds and trembling body. Biting at his lip, nails digging into his palms to try to centre his senses elsewhere. And everything is all the more intense by the loss of his sight.

It’s full submission to the order, without shame, and Sylvain cannot adore it more.

“How much do you need this, baby?” he soon asks, running a hand up Felix’s erection. A choked cry. Quick shaking of his head, back arching.

“Need it … n-need it so badly, master.”

“I bet you do. Needed it ever since you had my cock in that pretty mouth of yours, and I spanked you over that counter.” Sylvain’s hips take control so his other hand can trail over to Felix’s ass to slap at it. A whimper. “Want you to beg for it now, beautiful.”

“Please, p-please—”

“Please what?”

“Please let me … let me come, ngh, _master._ P-please.”

Felix cries so loudly when Sylvain increases the pace of his hand on his erection, it’s a wonder he doesn’t wake their entire home. “Mine, aren’t you?” A murmured question that is unnecessary, for Sylvain _knows_ Felix has been his, and his alone, for a long time, but there is never any harm in hearing it.

And Felix is always fine to respond, nodding rapidly. “Always yours, o-only yours, so please … _please.”_

A sob escapes him, one that softens the smirk on Sylvain’s face. He leans in, brushing his lips against Felix’s chest as he says, “All right, my angel. I allow it.”

Felix doesn’t waste a single second now he’s received permission. Nor does he even forget what scenario they’re engaging. The broken, loud cry of _“Master—!”_ almost earns Sylvain’s immediate climax in response. But he can resist, merely moaning at the sound, pressing a kiss to Felix’s lips as loving hands squeeze at his rear.

“Almost there,” he murmurs. “Almost there, baby, you’ve … y-you’ve done so beautifully.”

He smiles with warmth over Felix’s head burying itself into Sylvain’s shoulder. Still moaning softly. Sylvain focuses on those sounds, the feel of Felix’s body against his, when he finds his own climax into Felix. A groan of his name, breathless as he slows himself down to a stop, head resting against Felix’s and pressing a kiss to the side of his head.

“Oh, Goddess,” Sylvain breathes out. “Felix, you’re amazing. Are you okay?”

“Mm. I’m fine.” Still caught up in his high, if that tone is anything to go by. Sylvain kisses his head again, before hands on Felix’s shoulders straighten him up a little. Sylvain reaches for the blindfold at the back of his head to untie it. “Slowly, now,” he says once Felix’s eyes are freed.

It’s adorable, the way Felix blinks as he adjusts to his returned sight. The perplexed, tired eyes, still full of love and satisfaction. He hums into the brief kiss Sylvain gives him.

“I’m going to untie you from here and sort out the hanging rope later,” says Sylvain, reaching above Felix’s head, “just so I can catch you when you’re no longer suspended.”

“Not weakened enough for that,” is what he says, but the moment his hands are freed, a rush of fatigue takes over and he’s sinking against Sylvain.

“What did I tell you?” asks Sylvain, tone gentle and teasing; he runs a hand over Felix’s head and plants a kiss on his forehead. “Come on, baby, let’s get you sorted out.”

He guides Felix to lie down before reaching for some tissues. They’re used between Felix’s legs, wiping away the semen, a rush of guilt finding Sylvain when he realises Felix ejaculated onto the dress. He doesn’t seem to mind, however. In fact, as he so often is when the two engage in this play, he’s perfectly content rolled on his side, head hidden in his arms. Body completely relaxed.

Sylvain chuckles in amusement over how the headdress has finally fallen off, as well. “Still wearing this dress?” Sylvain teases, stroking up Felix’s waist. “Wouldn’t say no if you want to wear it casually.”

“There’s no way in hell I’m doing that.”

“I know, I know,” he says. “Let’s get it off so you can relax properly. Same with the stockings.”

When Felix manages to do so, Sylvain starts with those first. He removes both carefully, placing kisses onto Felix’s legs as he does so. “Did I do okay, then?” Felix asks when Sylvain turns him around, unzipping the dress from behind. “For your birthday, I mean.”

“Felix, you couldn’t have done better. I mean, strawberries from that one specific farmer in Brigid? You’re amazing.”

“Only what you deserve.” Felix falls back against Sylvain behind him, the latter kissing the curve of his neck. “I’d give you everything if I could.”

“You _do_ give me everything.”

Once the dress is removed, Sylvain does the same to his own shirt. His arms soon wrap around Felix. The latter hums, burying close with his hands resting on Sylvain’s back, head on its side against Sylvain’s shoulder. A warm, tender smile over the lips that brush at his head.

“How’s your ass?” asks Sylvain. The blunt, sudden question causes Felix to laugh.

“Stings. But Goddess, getting spanked in our kitchen was something else entirely.”

“I know it was _exactly_ what you were planning. Do you need lotion on it?”

Felix hums, snuggling that little closer. “Maybe later. I just want to feel you for now.”

“I’m fine with that, my love. Need to get you some water too, though.”

“Later, too.” A smile against Sylvain over the clicking of the latter’s tongue. “All right. Five minutes, first.”

“I can do five minutes, yeah.”

The two remain still, all but for the movement at a moment they cannot pinpoint, where they fall down on the bed in each other’s arms. Embracing warmth, listening to breaths, heartbeats. Reminded of how they have stayed alive to see this many birthdays.

“Happy birthday, Sylvain. I love you.”

Sylvain smiles, cupping Felix’s head and urging it to rise from Sylvain’s chest. “I love you too, forever.”

“Even if I’m not an old man like you yet.”

“Old man?” Sylvain splutters. “Just because you’ve still got a little while to go before you’re thirty … Typical.”

Felix is grinning with amusement when Sylvain’s lips find his. Both feel the same sense of disappointment that such a fantastic day is now in the past, although the satisfaction and love left behind will never leave them; they know that with the life they have taken for themselves, every day is blessed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'll also be posting a Sylvix painting for his birthday. Feel free to find me on Twitter @/nikobynight to not miss out!


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